Scott is working from home two days a week now, and I am blown away by his work ethic. He’s really *working*, like, the whole 8 hours. I keep telling him nobody would know if he took an extra long lunch break or a few extra coffee breaks, but he’s all honest and shit… for now. And while I don’t get much from him during the day in the form of help, except the two times that Kendall crapped a muddy river and I screamed and insisted he help me clean up, I am getting a healthy and refreshing dose of respect (not that he really lacked in that department, let’s just say it’s been an eye-opener for him).
This morning, for the first and probably only time, he took on the duty of watching Kendall while trying to work so I could head out to the chiropractor (OOOOOMMMMGGGG amazing, all moms should see chiropractors) so he could continue working on this nerve damage in my shoulder, undoubtedly amplified, if not actually caused by Kendall. I was gone about two hours and called to check in on my way home.
“He’s crazy,” Scott says.
::background noise:: ahhh, babababab,baaaww!! EEEEEEE!!
“What do you mean?” I reply sheepishly.
“He’s crazy, Jill. He …I… I can’t get anything done. He’s just”
“Yeah, I understand. I will be home soon.”
“I don’t think he’s feeling well. He won’t stop whining and crying,” he says in an official tone.
“Uhhhhh… well, that sounds pretty normal,” I say, stifling a laugh.
I get home and am greeted at the door by a pantsless little boy, still in his jammy top, covered in banana slime and snot, beaming from ear to ear. “Momma, mommommoma, momA!” he says. It almost sounds like a genuine, “I’ve missed you, where have you been? I love you!” I scoop him up and think, “Ahhh, so this is what it feels like to be missed, to come home to a little guy who is excited to see you.” I never really experience that since I am around him all. the. time.
I am quickly corrected when I realize what he is really trying to say is, “Oh my God, what the hell? You leave me with dad and he doesn’t even read me any stories or put Sesame Street on for me. He’s just sitting there, trying to WORK, and he won’t give me any more snacks! I want SNACKS! Naaaaaack! Naaaaack!”
I head to the kitchen and reach for a box of cereal, set him up at the table and fill a little bowl for him. Scott wanders in and I ask him how it went. He says …… pause for dramatic effect….. get this…
“You have no idea.”
::blink, raise eyebrows, blink, cold stare::
“Oh, wait… yeah, sorry. Yes you do. Sorry,” he blurts out quickly, bracing himself for the knives I might throw at him.
He follows up with several mentions of how he doesn’t know how I get anything done, to which I remind him that I usually don’t. He says he understands why I had to stop working from home and thank God for that one day a week when Kendall goes to Mother’s Day Out, right?
I think he’s beginning to question the whole work at home thing. Clearly this is not remotely as peaceful as the office and no amount of casual clothes and zero commute is going to change that. Honestly, I wouldn’t blame him if he changed his mind.
Kendall is 15 months and nearly three weeks old